


What's Normal in the Evening (By the Morning Looks Insane)

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dick is making poor choices, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Destructive Behavior, injuries, not on screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: “Now, Robin,” Slade spoke in the tone he’d only ever really used on his children when they’d misbehaved. Grayson hadn't been Robin in a long time, but it didn’t matter, not much at least. Grayson would always be Slade’s pretty little songbird. “You have some explaining to do.”“I was…” Grayson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 167
Collections: Dick Grayson Fic Exchange 2020





	What's Normal in the Evening (By the Morning Looks Insane)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fremdshamen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fremdshamen/gifts).



The little bird slept curled up on the couch, an old throw blanket, a hold-over from the divorce that Slade had never been able to bring himself to part with, tossed over his body. He hadn't known what else to do, a thought that disturbed him more than just about anything else could. His job demanded him to know things. But there wasn’t a manual on how to handle your… whatever Grayson was to him… showing up at your doorstep in the dead of night covered in blood and soaked to the bone. 

Slade never had been adept at handling other people’s problems, especially not when it came to people he cared about. And like it or not, he _did_ care about the pretty little broken bird snoring softly just a few feet away. 

Grayson stirred softly, and Slade leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear as though he’d just walked in and hadn't been watching him sleep for the better part of what had remained of the night. Grayson’s eyes darted around the room, likely trying to remember where he was, before landing on Slade, his expression closer to mortification than fear. 

“Now, Robin,” Slade spoke in the tone he’d only ever really used on his children when they’d misbehaved. Grayson hadn't been Robin in a long time, but it didn’t matter, not much at least. Grayson would always be Slade’s pretty little songbird. “You have some explaining to do.” 

“I was…” Grayson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Slade raised an eyebrow at that. Whatever had happened to Grayson had been bad enough that he felt he couldn’t go back to the Bat or his precious little group of friends. He ran through a list of scenarios in his mind. Grayson finally broke the no-kill rule? Unlikely. So what did that leave?

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Grayson,” Slade folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s start somewhere else. How did you know where to find me?”

“You aren’t that hard to track.” Something flashed in Grayson’s eyes, and Slade was almost proud. He really had grown since his days as the Boy Wonder. A lie, and a bad one at that, but Slade was willing to let that one slide. At least, for now. 

“What made you think I would help you?”

Grayson glanced down to the bandages covering his left shoulder and arm. It had taken more stitches than Slade had cared to count, and Grayson really should have considered a hospital to avoid a nasty, jagged scar. Serrated knives were a bitch at the best of times. Years of military training, more of mercenary work, and Slade had never really had a need to patch himself up.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and Slade had never respected him more than in that very minute. “But you did.” 

Slade nodded and crossed the room, moving to sit in an armchair that was almost as old as Grayson was. “Now,” he spoke, voice deadly calm as he leaned forward. “What were you up to last night?”

Grayson’s eyes flashed again with something Slade didn’t like at all. He always had been such an angry boy. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You don’t show up at an assassin’s safehouse covered in blood that I can only _assume_ was only yours.” Grayson flinched, and a sick sense of satisfaction rushed through Slade’s veins. It was always so easy to get under his skin. “Now tell me. What happened? What’s so broken daddy can’t fix it?”

“Fuck you,” Dick growled. He started to lunge toward Slade, only to wince when his injuries prevented him from doing too much. Stupid boy.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Slade asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Do I need to remind you that _you_ came to me?” 

A silence hung between them, but Slade didn’t mind it much. Talkers always got uncomfortable with extended silences, and he’d never known Dick to be quiet longer than a handful of minutes. 

“It was stupid. I should go.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Slade moved to his feet and blocked the doorway, not that Grayson had moved much. Grayson shot Slade a glare that would have made Batman proud. “What happened?”

Grayson stared at him like he wanted to keep fighting but didn’t know how. Slade watched as he worried at his lower lip, a nasty habit the boy never had broken. “I’m poison.”

Slade frowned at that wording. Not ‘I’ve been poisoned.’ Not ‘I poisoned someone.’ “Explain.”

“Everyone close to me winds up dead.” His voice was small, not unlike a scared child. A better man would have gone to comfort him, maybe, but Slade had never really considered himself to be the ‘better man’ type. “And I can’t… I can’t keep losing them.”

Slade nodded slowly, not quite sure how to respond to that. “And that explains the knife wound… how, exactly?”

Grayson was quiet again, for longer that time. “I’m just so angry all the time,” he confessed, all the fight finally drained out of him. “And I wanted… I needed…”

“You needed someone to hurt as much as you do?” Slade supplied. It was so cliche he almost wanted to laugh.

“I don’t know,” Grayson sighed in frustration, punching a throw pillow pathetically. “I lost everything. In a matter of weeks. Blockbuster he… I don’t know how but he knew. He knew everything. Maybe he always did. And then…” he stopped like he wanted to continue but couldn’t.

“And then?” Slade pressed.

“There was… This person I thought I could trust.” And there was the problem, wasn’t it? Trust was a fickle little thing. Slade never had much use for it. Trust always got people hurt in the end. “And I don’t even know why I’m bothering telling you this anyway. But I can’t…” he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t ever look at me the same if he knew.”

Slade raised an eyebrow at that. “I am sure the Bat of all people knows things happen that are out of your control. You’re hardly the first person to be in that situation.”

“It’s not just that,” Grayson sighed in frustration. “Tarantula,” the name came out like venom. “I trusted her, and I shouldn’t have, and it’s my fault…”

“And the blood?” 

Grayson shut his eyes again. “I went looking for a fight and I found one. And I could have taken them but…”

“But you weren’t looking to win,” Slade finished for him, and Grayson nodded, refusing to look over at him.

“I don’t know,” Grayson sighed deeply, staring up at the ceiling. “And I didn’t… I don’t trust you, okay?” Slade nodded slowly, as if he understood even a little bit of the mess that had been made of his pretty little Robin’s head. “But I knew you wouldn’t let me die, and I thought you wouldn’t ask questions.”

“And how’s that worked out for you?” Slade questioned, earning another glare from Grayson.

Another silence hung between them. Slade watched as Grayson shifted uncomfortably and glanced up at the clock. “I should go.”

Any other day, Slade wouldn’t have let him. His pretty little bird in its cage at last? It wasn’t something he would give up easily.

But he wanted Grayson at his best.

And this? Was too far from it.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before stepping away from the doorway, two words he never thought he’d want to say escaping his lips. “Go home.” Graysonnodded slowly and carefully got to his feet, guarding his bad side. “And don’t make a habit of… whatever this was.”

“Okay,” the boy spoke softly as he walked through the kitchen, toward the door. “Thanks for…” he gestured with his good arm.

“Like I said,” Slade muttered, opening the door for him. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Grayson stepped outside.

Slade shut the door.

He made a mental note to get as much information on this ‘Tarantula’ as he could find.


End file.
